Ozryel laughed, chest shifting with each breath he took to convert the air into insults that would tear into Alfred like paper and a knife. “You expect me to cater to you? A mortal who has so foolishly stepped into the realm of a beast who feasts on flesh? You’re more stupider than you look, child.” Perhaps the man was suicidal, or maybe he was just senile. Either way, Ozryel couldn’t pass up a free meal that simply strolled in and proclaimed itself a guest in the ‘household of Ozryel’. “Entertainment? Does my tearing you apart and feasting on your wretched corpse count as ‘entertainment’? Else you’ll have to find somewhere different.”
Alfred allowed himself a rare giggle and clapped his hands like some deranged, mocking seal. Getting a rise out of this creature was easier than he first imagined; Alfred liked him already.
"Calm down, gecko, before you give yourself a hernia," Alfred said whilst stepping a little closer. He really wanted to get Ozryel to strike him, hopefully tear off some skin, too. It was the most entertaining way to reveal himself, "you’re not the first beast who feasts on flesh—as you so crudely put it—that I’ve had the joy to encounter…though I will admit, you’re definitely the most hammy.”
He removed a notebook from his breast pocket and began scribbling away with his favourite fountain pen. He was a little disappointed; he’d hoped one demon could notice another more easily than this.
"Though I do believe I can help you; I’m a psychiatrist, and it’s rather clear you have some serious anger management issues," he said whilst trying to keep a straight face, "do you take anything for that?"
A growl would approach his ears as the home he had entered was actually a deadly nest. And much like a hive, he had disturbed its inhabitants. Ozryel hissed as he peered around a corner at the man, tail lashing. “Who are you and what do you want?”
Alfred cocked his head sideways and smiled grimly. This wasn’t exactly what he expected, though it was by no means a disappointment either.
"Easy, tiger," he chuckled with a raised hand—palm flat and open, "And who am I? Well, I’m your house guest. What do I want? Entertainment and perhaps a meal. As a good host I’m sure you’ll oblige me on both fronts, correct?"
He was hoping that would piss him off; it was a tendency of Alfred’s to rattle cages, just to see what people—or rather, creatures—had in the way of limits.
Pfft, yeh, kids fa thing for their pets. I had a thing for killin cats myself.
[Shrugs, places the picture back in, and holds out the wallet.]
Uh. Pretty good? Stable at the very least.
Pretty stable? I think someone is telling little white lies there, missy.
Why would you be trying to steal my wallet like some degenerate street urchin if you were actually worth something?
In a monetary sense, that is.
[So she does, having to bring it close to her face to see it clearly. She raises an eyebrow.]
Is this, like, sentimental to you or somethin?
I mean, I’m not judgin or anythin, but
it’s sort of weird.
-Her reaction was surprisingly reserved;
Interesting, very interesting indeed-
I’m sure it had rather high sentimental value to the little girl it belonged to, but that was close to a decade ago now.
Out of curiosity, how’s your financial situation going?
—-Hello? Is anybody home?
I decided to let myself in; you weren’t coming to the door.